Dollars (Dollar 2)

I would survive.

Because that was what I was born to do.

“SURELY, YOU MUST have a forwarding number.”

The woman on the other end of the phone was less than fucking helpful. “No. The home line was disconnected after multiple non-payments. We requested the bill payer contact us on three occasions and never received any answer.” Her huff echoed loud in my ear. “That’s normal protocol. And like I told you many times, we don’t have any forwarding details or reasons why the invoices went unpaid with no further communication.”

That was what worried me. Where had Pimlico’s mother vanished to? In my experience, if someone disappeared, it was usually from bad situations. Either from committing a crime and running from the law (was she involved with Pim’s abduction?) or becoming the victim of such an incident (like her daughter).

Ever since Pimlico entered her home number into my phone at Alrik’s, I’d bided my time to use it against her. The digits were as good as a treasure map to who Pim was. And if I could figure out who she was before I lost myself to whatever urges she manifested, the better for both of us.

I wasn’t good with secrets. I wasn’t good with things I wanted but couldn’t have. I wouldn’t rest until I’d turned an inconsequential phone number into the truth.

“At least let me know the bill payer’s full name. I’ll do my own research seeing as you’re determined not to help.”

“Can’t give out personal information.”

“It’s an old account and of no value to you. If not the name, give me the address.”

She sighed dramatically. “Listen, like I just said. No can do.”

Goddammit, I hated technology. If I was in front of her, I could’ve subtly bribed her to give me what I wanted. With miles of ocean between us and a crackly phone line, I had no way of changing her mind. “Is there anything you can tell me?”

She chirped smugly, “Nope. Have a nice day.”

The dial tone buzzed in my ear as she hung up. That just fucked me off. I respected her doing her job but being rude was not permitted under any circumstances.

Bitch.

I slammed my satellite phone onto my desk and swiped over a holder of pens. “Fuck.”

It wasn’t often I came up against brick walls, but Pimlico was buried beneath them. I didn’t know her real name. I didn’t know the town she grew up in or any other details of her life. She’d poured her heart into her notes to No One but focused only on her time with Alrik. She never once mentioned a high school location or favourite club or activity. In fact, the only thing she did give a name to was Anne of Green Gables and her love of the show. I’d never seen it, but if it gave me clues…perhaps, I should?

Fuck, I don’t have time for this.

And who the hell cared? She was just a girl. A slave. What drew me to her so damn much?

You know why. She reminds you of—

I clutched my head, tugging on black hair to rid such stupid thoughts. I would find out who Pimlico was, and when I did, I’d figure out who was responsible for her capture and treatment. And if it turned out her mother was involved in her captivity, she would pay. Slowly. Painfully. I would make her feel every blow and kick Pimlico had endured.

I couldn’t find redemption for myself. But perhaps, I could find it for Pim.

But why?

There was that fucking question again.

Why do you care?

Why bother when I intended to keep her in the same role she’d been groomed for so many years? It wasn’t as if I would free her. I couldn’t. She knew too much about me already. The longer she was mine, the more incriminating knowledge she would have.

So once she’s fulfilled her purpose, you’ll trade her for something else that benefits you?

Why chase down her family and find out the truth if I had no intention of returning her to the life she’d been abducted from?

The answers danced on the back of my mind, elusive but teasing, letting me know I was more human than I wanted to admit. More in tune with broken things than I ever wanted to believe after what I’d done to my own family and the circumstances that followed.

Falling from grace and trading a home for homelessness had shaped me from kind to heartless. Ever since then, I didn’t give a shit about anyone else. Why should I? I was the cause of contamination.

Looking at my hands—the same hands that’d touched Pim and stolen her from her dead master—I snorted at how wealth had given me freedom but imprisoned my skills with more money than I could ever spend.

What the fuck was I supposed to do with that?